


A Feeling

by mssrj_335



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Force Healing, Appropriate Use of the Force, Badass Finn (Star Wars), Finn on a speeder bike (bc everyone needs that), Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mission Fic, Poe Dameron cares A Lot, Some Plot, Some angst, feeeeeelings, some schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: An instant, then the depot exploded above them. The force of the impact made his knees buckle. The roof collapsed around them, raining masses of durasteel and plascrete. He saw a shape rising behind Poe on the stairs as the pilot struggled to steady himself.“No! No, Poe, behind you!”—The Resistance receives a distress signal, Finn and Poe go to investigate. Only, not everything goes as planned
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 25
Kudos: 191





	A Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> self-edited, lmk if you see something glaring
> 
> i am not good at titles. or endings. oof just bear w me until they get there
> 
> i don't know if it's any good but enjoy all the same :)

To the untrained eye, Poe’s face remained as neutral as it had been before the announcement. But Finn knew better. He could see it in the muscles working to clench Poe's jaw or flex his fingers against his belt. Finn knew what to look for when Poe was about to say or do something of questionable sanity and, well, there it was. He blew a deep breath out his nose but kept quiet. A distress signal from one of their own was bad enough but Finn’s gut said that Poe knew more than he was letting on.

“When did we get the report?” Poe asked after a beat.

Connix’ mouth narrowed into a thin line. “Two days ago, sir, but we can’t make any sense of it.” She glanced at the other assembled officers. “It’s an old distress signal, over a year old. Nearly scrambled. Black Squadron caught pieces of it briefly on their way to the Western Reaches. The only part we’ve been able to discern is the name.”

Finn glanced at his co-general. Poe’s jaw jut forward, their eyes met. _Oh, that definitely meant trouble._

“What planet?”

“Anoat, sir,” Connix said. “Presumably from the old base.”

_Kriff_ , Anoat was a ghost planet. Years ago, long before the destruction of Alderaan or the Battle of Yavin, almost all the native inhabitants were forced off-world. The First Order history spun stories of mining accidents and poisonous gas from beneath the surface. In truth, the Empire had gassed them, slaughtered them as they tried to flee and left the rest to certain death. The Resistance had used it once before as a stepping stone to another base, too afraid to stay longer than a few days. Poe paused and, for an instant, Finn thought maybe— _just maybe_ —he would let it go.

“Prep a transport and a speeder bike. I’m going.” Finn's shoulders tensed. _Nope, of course not_. Poe chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully, already striding to the barracks. Rose and Jannah called after him, Kin and D’Acy shook their heads and muttered to each other. Despite the ensuing arguments, Finn didn’t hesitate to follow.

“Finn!” Rose called after him. He didn’t stop walking, but he did turn, eyebrow raised, pacing backward.

“Finn, you gotta know this is a bad idea! What if it’s a trap?” she demanded, jogging to catch up.

“I know, I got a bad feeling about it, too,” he shrugged helplessly, “but I can’t let him go by himself.”

Rose grit her teeth. “It’s over a year old, can’t it wait? There’s probably not even anyone there.” She finally stopped him, hand firm on his forearm. “Plus, what if it’s a trap? You gotta know it might be a trap,” she repeated. “We need you. We can send someone else, you both are kind of important here.”

A tiny part of himself still recoiled at the sentiment but he smiled gamely anyway. “Hey, war’s over, remember?”

Rose leveled him with a skeptical look. He cleared his throat and amended, “Well, mostly. And if these are allies, we could use all the help we can get.” Rose opened her mouth to argue and he rolled on over what he knew she would say. “You and the rest of the team keep focused on parsing out the Allied Fleet to First Order strongholds still left. Remind Kin he's on diplomatic meetings this week. We’ll be gone a week at most, you won’t even miss us. Besides,” he said, more serious, “I’m not sure you could stop him anyway.”

Finn glanced toward the barracks and Rose sighed. “It’s a bad feeling, but whatever this is, it’s important to him,” Finn continued softly. “It’d be suicide to go alone.”

“Stay away from the hyperlanes,” Rose acquiesced, releasing his arm and putting her hands on her hips. It was times like this Finn was reminded of Rey in Rose’s tiny, formidable stature and something inside him ached a little. She eyed him shrewdly for a second more, then said, “Go on then, make sure you don’t get killed.”

Finn smiled again but he didn’t feel it quite reach his eyes until Rose yelled, “And maybe kiss him while you’re at it!” at his retreating back. He huffed a laugh and raised an arm to her, then turned a corner at a jog.

—

The door opened with a hiss and Poe was right where Finn thought he’d be. It hadn’t always been like this; Finn had had his own room at one point. He wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened or how it came to be, but if anyone asked, the room made "communication between the generals easier." While not completely untrue, he wouldn’t trade this quiet space for anything. Not even when Poe was being difficult. 

“You know that was a dick move, right?”

Poe sighed but didn’t turn as Finn entered their shared quarters. He slouched against the door and crossed his arms, waiting for Poe to reply. The pilot just kept stuffing ration bars and clothes into his pack. _Well, that wasn’t promising_. Finn stepped into the space, dropping his arms. The cold, scratching in his gut grew stronger as he approached but he held out a hand in a gesture of peace.

“I mean, who just gives an order and walks off?” He tried for a gentle tease. “Leaves their co-general in the mess?”

“Look, Finn, sometimes that’s what giving an order is for,” Poe bit out, ignoring his hand. “I didn’t ask you to come after me and I’m not asking you to come with me, so what’s the problem?”

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Finn pulled Poe’s elbow so they were facing each other. “If you think you’re going without me, you better get your ass to Medical and get your head checked ‘cause that’s where our problems are gonna start.” Poe’s jaw tightened and he looked away. Finn let out a soft breath, angling his face to meet Poe’s. “Going to Anoat alone is suicide. We go together, remember?”

He leaned into Poe’s space and raised his eyebrows, daring him to argue. Gently, he cradled Poe’s other elbow. He swayed just a fraction closer. The cold receded a little, the warmth he usually associated with Poe suffused his skin. Finn still wasn’t entirely certain if this was something from the Force or the tight, _hot_ feeling he endured in his heart when he thought of Poe (or both) but it was a sensation he luxuriated in anyway. If only for a moment.

“Yeah, ok,” Poe sighed, eyelids fluttering briefly.

Finn pressed his thumbs into Poe’s skin, unconscious of the small comforting circles they drew on the side of Poe’s elbows. “So. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Poe pursed his lips and withdrew his arms from Finn's grip. The warm feeling subsided as Poe shouldered his pack.

"I'll tell you on the way."

He wasn't totally satisfied with the answer but it was better than none.

"Don't leave without me."

Quick as he could manage, Finn loaded a small pack and stopped by the Quartermaster for a several breath masks, water, and med kits. In the hanger, he spotted Jannah at the opening of a modified armored transport. She sat astride a speeder bike while Poe slouched just inside the hatch, arms crossed, lip curled impatiently.

"Told him he couldn't keep the speeder if he didn't wait," Jannah said mildly as Finn jogged toward them.

"Wouldn't have gotten very far without breath masks either.” Finn pointedly did _not_ look at Poe. He heard him snort though, and he rolled his eyes at Jannah as Poe's footsteps retreated inside the transport.

Jannah huffed and chanced a glance at the hold behind her. "Rose and I will keep them in line," she muttered. "You just be sure to keep _him_ in line, yeah?"

She extended her hand into the space between them and Finn clasped her forearm tightly. "Think he knows about riot control training?" he asked with a tight grin.

Jannah smiled viciously and slid off the speeder. She waved goodbye, striding back to the officers’ tent. He pushed the bike into the hold, punched the hatch close, and tried not to stumble to the cockpit while Poe took them out. It was a tight fit, modified from a B-wing module with two seats. Holo readouts supplemented the limited field of vision, bathing Poe in a blue-green light, shadowing his eyes and the slope of his neck. The transport shuddered as they broke atmo and Finn stared at the back of Poe’s head, waiting.

“I can feel your eyes burning me, buddy,” Poe muttered, punching in the navicomputer coordinates a little harder than necessary.

A frisson of annoyance bubbled in his stomach but Finn didn’t deign to respond, fighting the urge to cross his arms again. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and tried to radiate calm. He’d felt Rey do it when Poe got like this and it always helped. Before she’d left for Tatooine, he may have asked her for a tip or two. _Focus on your most peaceful memory_ , Rey had said, _then sort of push that out around you,_ flapping her hands in useless little paddling motions. The few times they’d practiced, he scraped by with exuding a passable tepid tingle that Rey had talked excitedly about for days. Finn smiled to himself thinking of her. It was always much easier to navigate situations when she was around. A year out of the First Order wasn't a lot of time to get all of the social mores he'd been missing.

Some things were still foreign, scraping at his awareness, nameless and sometimes frightening. Rey and Poe had been patient, helping him put words to emotions he didn't have much practice with. But he couldn't exactly talk to Poe about _Poe_ , because Poe made him feel a _lot_ of things. He could tell _Rey_ how sometimes his chest tightened or his breath caught around him and get little more than a gentle smile and a raised eyebrow in response. She’d asked him once if he was going to do something about it but he hadn’t had the confidence to answer.

He wasn't so calm himself just now. But if Rey could make it work with calm, maybe he could make it work with what he was feeling. So, he settled comfortably in his chair and focused on that warmth again. A shard of unease still stuck in his chest but training his awareness on the heat under his breastbone made it grow and shift over the chill. His hands settled on his thighs as he traced the outline of Poe’s neck and shoulders with his eyes. Gently, he slid his boot forward until it touched Poe’s and he centered on that point of contact. He didn’t push the heat outward yet, too afraid to do something wrong, but he did feel it creeping toe-ward through him. Poe flipped the hyperdrive switch. As they slipped into lightspeed, the hard line of his shoulder sagged somewhat. The warm feeling grew hotter at their point of contact, so something must’ve been working. With a bit of effort, he pressed the sensation outward. He held his breath for a moment and was rewarded when Poe shivered and relaxed a little more. As gently as he’d pushed the aura out, he pulled it back toward himself.

The frigid sense barely registered now.

_Stars, it worked_.

All things considered, Finn was a little proud of himself. Rey would be ecstatic. Poe sighed softly and, only when he was slouched back in his chair, did Finn ask, “We should make it to Anoat in a couple days?”

Poe shifted and turned to him, his hackles finally lowered in the small space between them. “Tomorrow, buddy. I set a course past NaJedha, through the Western Reaches. We should avoid any trouble waiting for us on the Trade Spine.”

Finn nodded encouragingly, deciding Rose’s reminder was better left unsaid in this situation. “Good. Great. You got a plan, General?”

Poe glanced away. It was an innocent enough question, a shadow of their usual banter, but he didn’t push it. Despite his own curiosity, he knew that Poe would give him the details sooner or later.He waited a moment more.

“I think so? Kind of,” Poe admitted softly. “That signal, it—” He stumbled, bit his lip, but persevered. “It was a code I’d given to Kazuda Xiono. A few years ago, I recruited him out of the Starfighter Corps as spy against the First Order. He…I saw so much of myself in him. Took him under my wing.” Poe sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, through his curls. Finn leaned forward, wanting to comfort but not quite knowing how. He wanted to run his own hand through Poe’s hair. Instead, he clenched it into a fist, trying to squash his tactile tendency. “I sent him to Castilon, to the ship _Colossus_ , and I haven’t heard from him since. I thought he was dead…”

“And now he might not be,” Finn prompted delicately, his traitorous appendage moving to rest on Poe’s knee.

Poe fixed warm brown eyes on him and Finn melted a little inside. “Finn, you have to understand…” He wasn’t pleading but it was a close thing. He didn’t say it but Finn heard the _please_ left at the end.

He squeezed Poe’s knee tenderly and murmured, “I got your back.”

At last, Poe smiled at him. It was a small smile but it lit up Finn’s insides in some kind of way. Finn let his fingers slide away and sat up a little straighter.

"So we set down on Anoat, trace the beacon if we can, investigate with the speeder if we can't?" he surmised.

"It's gonna have to be that way," Poe replied darkly. "Sensors won't be fully functional until well below cruising height. Don't want to get shot outta the air...”

Finn narrowed his eyes. “I thought it was a dead planet?”

“There’s always something,” Poe murmured. His gaze slid back, flickering over Finn's face up then down in a quick flash. He opened his mouth but seemed to think better of what he was going to say. Abruptly, he rose to his feet and clapped Finn on the shoulder. “No sense worrying until we get there. Think there’s any caf on this bucket?”

\--

Poe's shifty attitude didn't improve over a cup of caf and it improved even less the next day on approach to Anoat.

Finn stretched, pulling out the ache in his joints. Maybe a year ago, a night on threadbare cots wouldn't have been quite so uncomfortable but time with the Resistance and their softer beds made it easy for some soreness to seep in. If he was put out, he could imagine how Poe must be faring. Sharing a room did come with advantages: he knew exactly what to expect when his co-general hadn't had a good night's rest. Before he even approached the cockpit, he brewed a cup of caf.

Finn ducked into the compartment to find Poe already switching off the hyperdrive. With a lurch, the transport lumbered into orbit. Anoat sat red and foreboding up ahead, disturbingly devoid of anything recognizable. No starships, no satellites, nothing. Careful not to spill anything, Finn settled into the seat behind Poe.

"Where are we at on the signal?" he asked, squeezing Poe's arm and passing him the caf.

"Oh, you're amazing," Poe groaned, sipping at the cup. Finn face warmed a little at the praise. “Signal’s barely traceable,” Poe continued as he turned to face him, “I say we land, pull out the sensor and get our bearings.”

Finn held back his reply, appraising now that he had a full view of his co-general’s body. Blue-purple crescents stood out like stains under Poe’s eyes, his clothes wrinkled and hair a haphazard mess. His face looked a little swollen and his eyes were rimmed with red.

“You didn’t sleep,” Finn stated. It wasn’t a question, of course Poe hadn’t slept. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what to expect after all. _Kriffing hell_ —

“You don’t exactly look a bouquet of gigglebuds, pal,” Poe shot back before he took a long pull on his drink.

He fixed Poe with his best disapproving stare; he had it on good authority that Poe listened very well to the shapes his face made.

“I slept a few hours,” Poe conceded, failing to hide his chagrin as he drained his caf. “I’m fine! Besides, someone’s gotta pilot this hunk of junk.”

“Damn it, even _I_ know you don’t have to actively pilot in hyperspace. What’re you gonna do if we run into trouble and you’re swimming in sleep deprivation? There better not be anything sketchy on this planet,” Finn admonished. “Saving your ass is one thing. But saving your ass when you’re delirious…” He let himself trail off with a grin, plucking the empty cup from Poe’s hands. “Guess I’d still save you.”

Poe smiled wanly and huffed a long-suffering sigh. “What a guy,” he drawled as he turned back to the flight controls. “I…couldn’t sleep,” he admitted as Finn rose to his feet. “I just kept thinking about Kaz, brain just spinning its wheels.”

Finn squeezed Poe’s shoulder. “If there’s anyone here, we’ll find them.”

With one last squeeze, he ducked out of the cockpit.

By the time the new caf brewed, the landing gear touched down and the transport hissed in exhaustion. He left the drink steaming on a table in the hold to go fish his day pack out from the bunks, mentally tallying the things he’d need. He hefted the bag, satisfied its weight was reasonable, then looped the strap around one shoulder and over his back. Back in the hold, Poe was strapping a blaster to his thigh and filling his pack with similar items. Finn grabbed a pistol and followed suit. He tucked a knife into his boot then tied a blaster rifle to the speeder bike for good measure.

“You got the sensor?” he asked, only to look up and see Poe waggling the device at him. “Ok,” he snorted, “you see anything out there?”

Poe pursed his lips and rechecked the contents of his bag. “I think we’re set, ground sensors are clear. I’ll set a code to lock the transport.”

“Tell me again why we can just use the transport to look for this guy?” Finn groused as he fit the breather mask base to the strap of his pack.

“Back in the Empire days, this planet used to have people, yeah?”

Finn nodded but shrugged as if to say _and?_

“You know what happened then, the massacre? After that, those left on the surface were too scared to leave. Trapped. Old sources say those that were left went crazy, exposed to the gas for too long. Archives list them as Lurkers, wandering around, killing anyone and everyone they can.”

Finn suppressed a shudder at the thought. “But that was years ago,” he said, trying for reason. “There couldn’t possibly be anyone left over thirty years later.”

The look Poe threw at him as he set the lock code made his reason waver.

“Look, buddy, all I’m saying is when the Resistance was here for a short while, portable sensors picked up _something_ out there. Between you and me, I’d rather not risk our only ride home to find out what. Code is 0658030.”

A good point. A very good point. Finn conceded and threw a leg over the speeder bike.

“All right then, General,” he said, pulling the breather over his face, “you navigate. I’m driving.”

Poe stood stock still with something like hunger on his face, tongue darting out to wet his lips. A heated look passed between them then, he pulled his own breather on and let down the hatch door. Finn let him get to the end of the ramp with the sensor before he fired up the speeder bike and eased it to the ground. The sensor made a static hiss as Poe turned it on but after a second, it cleared. Poe strode forward, blaster drawn, and Finn unbuttoned the strap of his holster. There was no sound but the wind howling and streaking across the barren steppes. Finn scanned the horizon. There wasn’t a shape to be seen, not a lifeform anywhere, visibility low and hazy.

“I got something heading south,” Poe shouted over the wind. He pointed to Finn’s left, indicating the direction. “We can tail it from here, it doesn’t seem to be more than a few kilometers.”

Finn motioned him to the bike and sat forward a bit. Poe’s hand steadied on his shoulder and Poe’s knees slid in behind his. It wasn’t a new sensation but the proximity warmed him despite the seriousness of the mission. When one arm wrapped around his waist and patted his stomach, he gunned the speeder southward.

He followed the path Poe designed from the sensor, shifting left or right at a touch. After some distance, when Finn looked over his shoulder, the transport behind them disappeared. The terrain had no topography to speak of that would hide it, just little hills and empty wide-set riverbeds. The ship was just gone, swallowed up by the haze. A little ways further and a gigantic cityscape disinterred from the obscurity. Poe squeezed him gently, signaling him to stop. Finn disembarked, Poe’s hand sliding over his stomach and trailing off his back. He kept a sharp eye on the city as Poe adjusted some settings on the sensor.

“Guess that must be Anoat City. Pretty sure that’s the only city this hell hole ever had.”

Finn shifted uncomfortably. Without the hum of the engine and Poe’s distracting touch, something a lot like dread pressed against the back of his skull.

“Poe, you sure the signal’s coming from there?” he asked, swaying from foot to foot uneasily.

“Yeah.” Poe fiddled with the sensor again, distracted. “We need to adjust our course a bit westward but it’s there all right.”

“Fine. But let’s get outta here as fast as we can.” Finn hopped back on the speeder bike. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

“I think I’m beginning to agree with you,” Poe grunted, settling a little bit closer to him than before. “Head that way.”

To appease his uneasiness, Finn slowed the bike to a reasonable speed. This was as good a place as any for a surprise attack. The only cover for kilometers was bound to be inhabited; on any other world it would be. Despite its mostly empty reputation, Finn had the sense that something bad was waiting for them.

Buildings started to rise around them, swallowing them like deep space Purrgil. Crumbling plascrete exposed rusted joints of durasteel and webs of insulation, lightpoles crisscrossed the streets and slumped over burnt-out groundcars and speeders. Finn eased the hover bike a meter higher to skim the destruction and slowed a little more. It was so much quieter here where the wind couldn’t reach. Instead of a howling there was only a whisper, winding its way through the city’s rotted heart. A touch to go right, then right again and Poe’s hand left its secure position on his stomach, the pilot’s knees tightened against his thighs. At a quick glance, he saw the barrel of Poe’s blaster peeking from under his arm. Buildings passed: waste disposal, water treatment, Imperial scrap garage, but he had a feeling he knew which one it was.

“Should be just up ahead. The shipping depot, do you see it?” Poe asked, eyes trained on the empty buildings around them.

“Green sign?” 

At Poe’s affirmative, he eased the bike into an alleyway and killed the engine. Poe adjusted his mask as Finn unstrapped the rifle and held it tight against his shoulder. Tight lines appeared at the edges of Poe’s eyes and his jaw took a hard set. Finn reached for him.

“Hey,” he said, clasping Poe’s bicep, “no matter what we find in there, I got your back.”

Poe sighed heavily but he nodded, fitting a hand over Finn’s and squeezing it briefly. “I know.”

With that, he tucked the sensor into his elbow and led the way, picking their way through the debris, blaster drawn. Finn followed at his side, finger on the trigger. Junk-littered streets yawned around them, the dread and heaviness so much more invasive for it. Finn’s skin prickled as they approached the depot.

A quick look, a brief nod, and Poe threw open the door.

Dust rained down as the door slammed into the wall but no shots or sounds came to greet them. Finn counted _one, two_ , and darted into the doorway, blaster tracking up, left, right, up. Red emergency lights flickered on, running on who-knows-what. He heard Poe slide in behind him, pace forward with him into the empty space. Emptiness stretched ahead of them, stark contrast to the chaos left outside. The entire depot was vacant and rotting, nothing more than dust motes occupying space. Then, his eyes fixed on something moving in the gloom. At the far wall, down a set of stairs, lurking at the bottom.

“Down there, do you see it?” he called softly.

Poe only nodded, striding toward it a little faster in the dim light.

“ _Help—_ ,” the shape croaked. Finn froze, so did Poe. A beat, then “ _Help—_ ” again.

He heard Poe gasp softly then he heard it again.

“ _Help—_ ”

No.

Something was wrong.

It was the same voice, the same _sound_ , repeated over like a recording.

Every hair on his body stood up and every instinct in him screamed to leave, to get out, to run. But Poe was tucking the sensor into his pack and striding forward again, blaster drawn but no reservation.

“Kaz!” Poe called into the stairwell.

He saw something else.

Poe’s boot. A wire.

No, _no no no no—_

“Poe! Don’t—”

_Click_.

He heard it just before he saw the recognition in Poe’s eyes.

Trap.

An instant, then the depot exploded above them. The force of the impact made his knees buckle. The roof collapsed around them, raining masses of durasteel and plascrete. He saw a shape rising behind Poe on the stairs as the pilot struggled to steady himself.

“No! No, Poe, behind you!”

But too late.

The hulking shape threw wraps of tentacles around Poe’s shoulders and pulled him down the stairs. He reached for Poe wildly, losing the blaster rifle, their eyes meeting for a fraction of a second.

“Finn!”

Then he was gone, slipping from his fingers.

“Poe!!”

A durasteel beam crumpled and the stairwell opening with it. Larger chunks of debris started crashing around him. Savagely, he tried to force his way past the collapsed beam to follow, he had to get Poe _back, had to get him back._ The beam refused to budge but a space just wide enough for him to slip through remained at the bottom. Halfway in, he remembered and reached for his abandoned rifle, chunks of plascrete bruising his arm and shoulder as they fell. With one last squeal and shudder, the entirety of the roof collapsed in on itself. He threw himself down the stairs, coming to an abrupt stop as he collided with the wall. Dust choked the air and the biomesh of his breather but he was intact.

The stairs were gone.

And so was Poe.

For a second, he couldn’t move. Everything hurt too much. Finn squeezed his eyes shut against the ache in his arm and his back and his hip. Working his way to his knees, something warm trickled down his face and forearm. Blood dripped lazily from a wide laceration on his arm. _Got hit harder than I thought_ , he mused blearily. His uninjured right arm guided his fingers to the sticky residue at the top of his head. A little probing told him it was superficial, just a scrape. He wiped the blood from his forehead and refocused.

Arm, another story.

With a groan, he stumbled to his feet, throwing the rifle strap over his shoulder. The sub-level egress only went one way, so that way he went. Whatever that thing was, that’s where it must’ve taken Poe. He fumbled in his pack for the medkit, fishing out a few supplies. He sprayed a bit of bacta, hissed as it hit the gash on his forearm, but he kept moving. Slapping a patch over it and using his good hand and teeth, he secured it with a strip of syncloth. After the initial bite, he felt the bacta sinking in and relaxed a little. If he was lucky, it wouldn’t need more than that. If he wasn’t, he’d think about it later. He slipped the spray back into his pack and shouldered his blaster again. Eyes wary, he moved forward as fast as he dared. The red emergency light still shown in the tight corridor but it was difficult to see much more. He just hoped that whatever was down here didn’t feel like setting more traps.

After a few steps more, he froze. Poe’s breather and pistol lay against the wall, no blast marks apparent on any surface. Which meant Poe was unarmed with no protective mask.

“Damn it.” He scooped up the pair and tucked them into his pack, resuming his stride at a faster clip. Hurry, had to hurry. Who knew how long a human could be exposed to Anoat’s toxic atmosphere? The heavy dread inched its way back into his awareness again and grew when he had to stop again.

An intersection.

Left or right.

“ _Kriff_ ,” he hissed, spinning right then left, back and forth.

No signs on the walls, no tracks on the permacrete base of the sub-level. He tried to listen, straining his ears for any sound at all. The only thing that reached him was the sound of his own breath. How was he going to find Poe now?

He paused.

A glimmer, an idea, premonition maybe.

A feeling.

He decided.

Left.

His gut told him to go left. A tiny sliver of Poe’s familiar warm presence lit up inside him so he followed the feeling. Poe was alive, he _had_ to be.

Finn continued through the maze of hallways for what felt like forever, following his intuition until the path converged with a maintenance hatch. There, at the rim of the opening, he saw a scrap of fabric caught in the teeth of the latch. It wasn’t much, but it looked and felt like a piece of Poe’s blue scarf. This way, then. The hatch swung open easily and Finn stepped inside. Here, there was no emergency light, nothing but the assaulting stench of sewage. The smell penetrated his breather, making him gag for a moment. Just a moment, then he regained his senses. Re-centering himself quickly, he pulled out flashlight and focused again on that warm, intimate sensation. He took a steadying breath through his mouth, in and out.

Pause.

To the right.

He braced his rifle with his wrist, holding tight to the flashlight in his fist. The rifle’s barrel sat just in front of the wound on his arm, causing him to grit his teeth. If something—or someone—popped out, he wasn’t sure how good his shot would be but better to have it ready than not. He just hoped the jostling wouldn’t dislodge the bacta patch. His eyes tracked little drops of blood on the ground ahead of him, fresh and red and growing in diameter. Picking up his boots to a jog, the drips and smears of red led right to a door.

Here, the cold sense of dread was strongest.

But so was the warm feeling he’d been following. Poe was behind that door, he had no doubt.

A large part of him wanted to go charging in but all his training told him to investigate first. If someone else had been with him, he wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot whatever was behind that door. But as it stood, if Poe was injured, he was their only way out of there. A moment of indecision passed and Finn grit his teeth. He decided to backtrack. There had to be another way in, some way he could get an advantage. He looked down either side of the sewage line. There were no ladders to the surface but there were several other hatches a little farther down the line. He jogged to the nearest one and tried the release catch. It opened a few centimeters, not much more. But it was enough space to fit his rifle. He jammed the blaster stock into the opening, leveraging it back and forth until it was wide enough to fit him. After a peek inside, he unshouldered his pack, dropped it just past the hatch, and slid through.

This hatch opened to a squat ceiling and damp, dank walls. It looked to be the sub-level of a water treatment facility, possibly to the one he’d seen on the surface down from the depot. He rebelted his pack and moved forward. Pipes and vats made the space feel smaller than it was. Tight, claustrophobic. The vat nearest to the hatch was hissing and bubbling, clearly still in operation even though none of the others were. He followed the wall just a few meters and took a left.

For a moment, he feared it was a dead end. Then, he realized. It was storage, a room between rooms, missing the door. Behind him, the water treatment pipes. Before him, crates and boxes of supplies. It looked as if someone was stockpiling. Some of the boxes were labeled with food products and a shelf on the left was lined with containers holding liquid. Possibly water from the facility, he surmised. Whatever it was, something was still alive down here.

Quickly, he stacked the some of the boxes on top of each other and pushed on the ceiling tiles. Thankfully, they gave way without much noise. The ceiling crawlspace looked big enough to crawl through without his pack, so he left it behind. Despite the ache in his arm, he pulled himself into the upper level. Now, the space let a new noise filter to him.

Shouting.

Someone back the way he came was yelling in Galactic Basic and it didn’t sound good. It was muffled but still distinct, so Finn followed it.

“Tell us where your ship is!” one voice screeched.

“I told you, he’s Resistance, he’s not going to tell us. Should’ve known that’s who’d answer the beacon,” another one hissed. “We should kill him.”

Finn’s gut clenched and he crawled faster.

“No good killin’ him, no good,” the first replied. “Won’t find the ship if we do.” The voice sounded a little more unhinged, deranged.

A third, guttural alien voice croaked in response, not in any language Finn understood but lilting like it had a question.

“ _No,_ you can’t eat him!” the first voice shrieked. “Not yet! Ishan, do something!”

At last, Finn found an air vent. He peered down into the space below to see Poe bound and surrounded by four lifeforms in breather masks. Two humanoid, one actual human, and something that looked like a smaller version of a Rathtar. The human, looking the most deranged, was brandishing a knife in Poe’s face. One humanoid paced back and forth, looking like a gaunt predatory bird toying with its food—Ishan, he guessed. The other flanked the pacer and the mini-Rathtar held Poe upright in its tentacles. Even from his distance, Finn could see something was wrong with Poe. His head lolled to the side, legs trembled.

“Fine. C’mon, General,” the more reasonable voice said, sounding slippery. “Tell us where the ship is and we’ll kill you quick. If not, the gas will soon enough. It’s already started, so why don’t you let us put you out of your misery?”

The Rathtar creature spewed something and the pacing Ishan smirked. “Of course you can eat him after that.”

Finn readjusted and quickly judged the scene below. Only one had a blaster but three were suited in very dirty, _very familiar_ uniforms. They were First Order officers, they had to be.

Or they used to be.

It hadn’t been so long that Finn had forgotten what happened to First Order personnel that fell behind. Without a doubt, whoever these bastards were, they’d failed in their mission and been left. It didn’t explain how they’d gotten their hands on the beacon from Poe’s friend, but that mattered very little to Finn. All in total, the odds were not in his favor. But as the human with the knife leaned closer and trailed the blade down Poe’s neck, Finn made a split decision.

A kick and he broke through the air vent, shooting as he fell.

Two of his shots landed before he did, disabling both humanoids. Finn hit hard, rolled to recover, and fired again at Ishan. The second humanoid fired. A blast grazed past, missed, but his found its mark. The Ishan creature slumped to the floor with a look of surprise. He focused his sights on the one with the blaster, barely got the shot off and saw the second fall before the mini-Rathtar came screaming into focus.

Finn’s feet came out from under him, his stomach lurched. The Rath-thing wrapped its tentacles around his waist, lifting him into the air. He lost his grip on the rifle, hearing it skitter away on the permacrete. Another tentacle ripped his pistol from his thigh, sent it flying. The human was screaming something, the Rath-thing’s mouth unhinging and dropping. Finn yelled, stupefied for a moment, then he scrambled for his boot. A quick struggle and he pulled the knife from his ankle, slashing at the tentacles holding him.

He hit the ground. Hard. The mini-Rathtar shrieked gutturally, momentarily distracted. It gave him enough time to dash for his rifle. In the space of a heartbeat, he recovered, aimed. The Rath-thing turned; he squared his shoulders. As the creature rolled forward, he shot _one, two, three, four, five—_

The beast stopped, dead, emitting a horrible rattle and sagging. Panting, Finn turned his attention at last to the human—

—who was hiding behind Poe. They had their knife poised over Poe’s throat, a hand bunched in his shirt.

“Let him go!”

“Let _me_ go,” the human’s voice grated. “You let me go, I let him go, we all get to go.”

Their voice was sing-songish, delirious. Certainly not appreciative of the fact that three of their comrades were dead around them. Finn snarled and set the rifle tight against his shoulder.

“I could shoot you right now.”

The human laughed from behind Poe's shoulders, high and thin. “Ah yah, you could, but you’d shoot right through your pretty friend. If you wanted me dead, you’d have done it alreadyyyy.”

Finn wavered a second and looked at Poe for the first time. The pilot’s eyes were red-rimmed, his skin damp with sweat. It looked like he was going to throw up. Something was definitely wrong.

“I’ll let you go if you answer me!” Finn compromised. “Did you poison him? What’s wrong with him?”

“He’sssss got too much atmo,” the human hissed. “Too much gas. Not I, not I, I didn’t do it. Gas gets us all in the end. We called for help. Those that were left, not all were left…”

The human’s words were circuitous, foreboding. What was worse was that Poe said nothing. He only looked around, dazed and oblivious to the knife at his throat.

“So how’d you get that beacon? Did you know Kazuda? Are you First Order?”

“Agh, that never worked, First Order, not anymore. I found it, found it in a crash, trash, Ishan said to turn it on. Escapes all gone…”

“Who else is here?” he demanded.

At that, the human peeked around Poe’s body, jabbing at his throat hard enough to draw little pinpricks of blood. “Just usss, only us.”

The jabs finally seemed to bring Poe around. “Finn?” he slurred. “What’re youuu doing?”

The human shrieked with glee and pulled Poe tighter to them, causing a thin trickle of blood to run down him neck. “See, see? The gas, it did it!”

Poe gasped, Finn’s heart splintered. The atmosphere poisoned Poe much faster than he’d thought it would. It had only been a few hours and his co-general was barely cognizant.

Finn growled and trained the barrel on the human’s face. He briefly cast his gaze to the ground, spotted his pistol and his knife. Something inside him hardened, resolute. “You let him go, I let you go,” he agreed at last.

“Ha!” the human barked. “Put that big toy down, down, and I’ll be going then.”

Slowly, Finn lowered his rifle and tossed it aside, hands in the air. The human pulled their knife back, taking a last wild slash at Poe as they dashed for the door, missing by a hairsbreadth as Poe’s knees finally gave out from under him.

Finn was faster.

In a practiced roll, his hands found the knife, then the knife found the human’s neck. They let out a screech but Finn was already moving to Poe. He knew they were dead; he hadn’t missed.

“Poe! Poe, are you ok?” He scrambled to Poe’s side, pulling the pilot into his arms. Poe didn’t reply. Finn gave him a helpless little shake. “Hey, hey c’mon, talk to me.”

He ripped the breather from his own face and fixed it over Poe’s. After a few deep breaths of clean air, his co-general looked up at him with unfocused eyes. “Finn,” Poe stumbled, “did you kill those guys?”

“Yeah, I--,” he choked, not quite holding back a sob of relief at the wonder in Poe’s eyes. He stroked Poe’s face, pushed his curls back from his eyes. “Are you ok? Can you talk?”

Poe’s brow pinched and he coughed. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. Where are we?”

“Not far from the bike,” he reassured him. “Can you walk?”

Poe struggled to sit up, clutching at Finn’s forearms. Finn bit down on the pain as Poe squeezed the gash there.

“You stay here for just a second, ok? I gotta go get the other breather.”

Poe made a pitiful noise and scrabbled against him. “No, no no please don’t—”

Finn repositioned the pilot so his back was against the wall. “I told you I’d save you, I’ll get us out of here, I promise,” he said, impulsively pressing a kiss to Poe’s forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Poe seemed to settle against the wall. Finn sprinted out the door and back to the storage room. His pack was right where he’d left it. He slung it over his shoulder and pulled the breather on as he sprinted back. Shouldering the blaster rifle and fitting the pistol back into its holster, he glanced at the bodies around him one last time. None seemed to have moved so he helped Poe to his feet.

“C’mon buddy,” he said, pulling Poe’s arm over his shoulders and fitting a hand over Poe’s hip. “Let’s go.”

\--

The water treatment was one level but going was slow. The maze of passageways twisted and turned, Poe’s body pressed in a hot line against him, his steps staggered. Every meter seemed more arduous than the last but Finn followed the wall in the direction of the street until they hit a door. Through the door was the block, and just beyond the cluttered street was the alley where they’d stowed the bike. He let Poe down to the ground, where he sat panting as Finn ran for the speeder bike.

After some careful maneuvering, they were both on board. Finn held tight to Poe's listless body, bracketing him with his knees, one arm wrapped around his waist. Poe's back pressed flush against his chest, shoulder tucked beneath his chin. A left, another left, and they were leaving the spacescrapers behind. Ahead in the distance, Finn spotted the transport. It looked to still be in one piece, _thank the stars_. The speeder bike lurched over a knoll and Poe groaned.

"Hang on, hang on, we're almost there!" he yelled above the wind.

Poe didn't reply.

Finn swore and cranked the throttle as far as it would go.

He was already fitting one arm under Poe's legs, helping him to the ground before the bike came to a stop, the other slipping behind his back. Finn keyed in the code, kicked the latch open, and ducked inside the hold, practically dragging Poe along with him. Poe's eyelids fluttered at the jostling but no more than a soft moan escaped him. Finn locked the hatch, dashing as delicately as he could straight for the refresher.

"Buddy, I'm gonna need you to stand for just a second," he panted, gingerly lowering Poe's arm from his shoulder, "can you do that for me?"

Poe settled his feet but his knees wobbled like rubber. Finn eases him down, crouching over his thighs when he reached the floor. In one motion, he pulled the breathers from his face and Poe’s. The bare skin below Poe's neck glistened with fever-sweat and tiny tremors shook his body. How long had he had the fever? Finn pressed a hand to Poe's forehead then to his wrists; he was burning. Without a second thought, Finn started stripping Poe's clothes. The buttons of his shirt came easily, the bandolier around his chest quickly discarded. Finn unlaced Poe's boots with deft fingers that became infinitely less deft when he tried for Poe's belt. At that motion, Poe finally looked at him, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Finn?" he asked hoarsely, reaching toward him. "Am I dreamin'?"

Finn kept fiddling with the catch of the belt. "No, buddy, you're not dreaming. I gotta get you in the shower, your fever is too high."

Poe seemed to pout, head lolling back against the wall like he hadn't heard him. "Aren't you sssssupposed to say nice things in a dream?" he slurred. "Like...ssssweet things, I-love-you thhhings?"

Finn's hands stuttered over the button of Poe's pants. He stared for a fraction of a second then worked Poe's pants open economically. _Nice things? Poe wanted him to say nice things? I-love-you things??_ Finn glanced up at Poe’s face. He looked completely wrecked, red beneath his honey skin, flushed and sweat-damp. Finn’s jaw clenched and he looked away.

"This isn't a dream," he repeated firmly, more to himself than to Poe. "Even if it was, why'd you want me to say sweet things to you anyway?"

"I like...hear sssweet things fromm you. Youuu never killed anyone before but you sssay I love you a lot, in my dreams.”

Finn covered his reaction with a sharp tug on the ankles of Poe's pants. What could he say to that, really? Poe’s words cut into him more than Finn ever thought they would. He wasn't sure what hurt more: that it wasn’t real or Poe wouldn’t want it to be when he was lucid. His chest burned and his eyes stung a little. It had to be remnants of the gas choking him up.

_Right?_

Poe panted and his brow pinched. “Why’sss everything hurt?”

_Right_.

With a toss, Poe’s trousers bunches in a pile and he was down to his underwear. Finn kicked off his boots and utility belt and turned on the 'fresher's shower. He’d give anything for an antidote kit; hopefully the water would be enough.

“I’ll say all the sweet things you want later if you get in the shower,” he half-promised, pulling at Poe’s hands, desperately wanting that to be true. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Poe hissed a little and stumbled forward into his chest. He fit his hands under Poe’s arms, twisting and maneuvering the pilot as gently as he could so his body was mostly under the steady stream. Almost immediately, Finn’s teeth started chattering in the cool spray, his shirt and trousers and socks soaking through. Poe gasped again and leaned back against him. Finn gingerly angled Poe’s face to the water. He refit his arms under Poe’s and wrapped them around his chest, pulling his back flush to him again. The feverish heat from Poe’s body seeped between them, heating one and cooling the other in turn. As the water drenched his hair and skin, Poe made soft, pitiful noises in the back of his throat and trembled.

“Finn, I can’t—”

Poe’s knees buckled.

“Hey, hey!” He scrambled to hold Poe up, slick skin nearly slipping from his grasp. His body throbbed with the effort but he let Poe carefully to the floor and followed, fitting his co-general between his knees. He sat them forward and faced the spray again.

Poe panted and squirmed against him. “Buddy, it’ssssso hot, everything hurts,” his voice broke. “Why does it hurt?”

Finn bit back the tightness in his throat. “Shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart,” he hushed against Poe’s temple, the endearment slipping past his lips. He swayed their bodies back and forth minutely as Poe shook, ran a gentle hand through Poe’s curls. “It’ll be ok, you’re gonna be just fine,” he murmured.

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

“Make it stop!” Poe sobbed, pushing at him desperately. “Finn, please—”

He clutched Poe tighter to his chest and buried his face in the back of Poe’s scorching neck. Pain left a sharp bite under his skin, a metallic tang at the back of his throat. The sensation buffeted him, it threatened to surround and engulf him.

“Please, please please please _please_ ,” Poe begged.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothed nonsensically. His words devolved into repetitions, sweet names and empty promises. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry baby, it’s ok, it’ll be ok. I’ll try, ok? I’ll try to make it go away.”

But he couldn’t, could he? He wasn’t Rey, he wasn’t a Jedi, he couldn’t do this. He didn’t know how the Force worked! _How? How, how, how? How to help him?_

His mind railed against him, sinking into an oubliette of pain and doubt and fear.

_What if you do something wrong?_

_What if you hurt him?_

_What if you can’t save him?_

_What if he dies?_

_No!_

It was a thought Finn couldn’t grapple with. It wouldn’t happen; not here, not now. He took a deep breath in and out, settling back against the shower wall, eased Poe back against him, holding the pilot tight. He took another breath in and out. Each water drop, the earthy scent of Poe’s skin, every rise and fall of their chests grounded him. Breath by breath, he pulled himself from the edge and back to where Poe needed him to be.

“Breathe with me,” he whispered in Poe’s ear. “C’mon. In…” Poe’s chest rose in time with his. “And out…”

He repeated his gentle chant over and over, feeling a pull and a push across his skin to Poe's. At last, Poe stopped shaking. The black hole seemed far away now. Absently, he felt Poe’s hand settle over his, fingers gently entwining. Finn focused all his attention on the sensation. It filled his chest with a familiar warmth, spreading from his breastbone to his toes.

He took another breath in and this time Poe gasped in a different way.

He pushed the feeling out and the sharp bite of pain under his skin receded completely. Poe relaxed against him, bit by bit going boneless in his arms. The warm sensation surrounded them and bound them, drawing them closer than skin on skin.

“Does that feel better, sweetheart?” he asked, dazed.

Poe tilted his head back against Finn’s shoulder, gaze vitreous and placid but blessedly clear. “Yeah,” Poe breathed.

Before he could help himself, Finn sank into Poe’s soft eyes. His hand trailed its way up Poe’s neck and rested over his throat, just under his chin. Absently, he noticed the pilot’s skin was cooler, his pulse slower.

“Are you still hot?” he murmured.

“Not really.”

Poe blinked slowly, eyes hooded, lips chapped and parted.

Finn’s hand continued up, his fingers sliding into his co-general’s hair again.His eyes flickered to Poe’s mouth then back. The delicate heat between them sat heavy in his bones; he pressed his forehead to Poe’s, rubbing a circle on the back of Poe’s neck with his thumb.

“I thought I was gonna lose you.” The words barely escaped him, scraped out of him like some kind of hateful confession.

Poe lids fluttered and he shivered. Finn opened his mouth—to say what he wasn’t sure—but in the empty space, Poe stretched up and into him, softly pressing their lips together. The sensation in his chest soared, filling the space around them. Poe dragged his mouth slow against him, his hand coming to rest on Finn’s neck. Despite the cold water and the chill, Finn’s skin suddenly felt molten. Not like before, not like the fever. This was a different heat, still all-consuming but slick and delicious. He opened his mouth just enough for Poe’s tongue to slide past his teeth.

_Stars, that felt—_

He couldn’t even describe it, words beyond his capacity. Poe’s soft groan concentrated the heat in his chest and inched it southward. Finn sucked in a harsh breath through his nose and pulled back with a sweet shudder.

As good as it was and as much as he wanted it to fill him, he stopped.

There was still work to do.

“Poe,” he murmured, tenderly squeezing his co-general’s neck. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

Poe dropped his head back into Finn’s palm and lowered his gaze. Finn felt a frisson of cold, a shard of uncertainty slip into the molten heat in his skin.

“Yeah,” Poe sighed. “You’re right.” He shifted just so, loosening Finn’s grip and pulled himself back.

Finn’s mind stumbled.

_What was this feeling?_

Poe’s hands withdrew, wrapping around himself. Before he could right the wrong-footed sensation in his gut, Poe started struggling to his feet. Finn jumped to his to assist, shutting down the shower and reaching for a towel. As Poe’s color seemed to even out and the warmth binding them receded into his chest, a little warning bell went off in his head.

Something shifted between them and Finn was left reeling.

—

He helped Poe dry quickly and sat him in one of the transport seats while he fetched his clothes. Piece by piece, he slipped the garments over Poe’s cooled skin, trying not to let his fingers linger as he applied bacta to any and all of his scrapes and bruises. Somehow, it felt wrong. A wall was back and Finn ached with it. Only when Poe was redressed and wrapped in a blanket did Finn leave him to change his own clothes and bandage. When he returned, he found Poe slumped against the hull, hugging the blanket to himself.

“C’mon, let’s get you into bed,” Finn murmured as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

Poe looked at him heatedly, trying again to stand on his own.

“Ah, hey, none of that!” he admonished. With a sure hand, he steered Poe toward the transport bunks. Wrapping an arm around Poe’s waist, he held the pilot steady and ripped all the bedding of his own bunk, gracelessly tossing everything soft he could find onto Poe’s cot.

“There, how’s that feel?” he asked softly as he lay Poe down among the mess.

A sigh escaped Poe’s lips as he settled in. “Fine. Good.” He looked up at Finn with hooded eyes and Finn’s stomach clenched.

“I’m gonna go check outside, make sure everything is safe,” he said, just as soft.

Oh, Poe didn’t seem to like that _at all_. He groaned and squirmed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Then I’m coming with you.”

Finn grimaced and ran a soothing hand over Poe’s arm. “Buddy, you can’t even stand. I need you to stay here.” _Where it’s safe, where I can take care of you,_ he thought.

Poe apparently heard that thought, settling back down into the nest of blankets. “You’ll be back?” he asked, voice small and eyes dark.

Finn’s heart ached. The strength of the emotion scared him.

_Oh, stars…_

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Poe’s forehead.

“I promise.”

Before he could embarrass himself more, he all but bolted from the room.

Out in the main hold, he had to take a steadying breath. He blinked once, twice, the heat left in his skin turning tight and constricting. As he grabbed a breather mask, he shook himself. They were still in hostile territory, he needed a soldier’s mindset. He was wrung out, hollow, but another deep breath steeled the solid core within him and he shouldered the blaster rifle. One last breath and he opened the hatch.

Without hesitation, he leapt to the ground and scanned.

Up. Left. Right. Up.

No enemy in sight. No Lurkers. No First Order.

A vicious part of himself was pleased. More than pleased. Of course there weren’t any First Order, they were dead.

Still, he locked the hatch and worked efficiently around the transport, checking every nook and cranny. All barren. When he returned to the hatch, the speeder bike sat right where he’d left it, undamaged. Satisfied, he slung the rifle strap over his back and reopened the hatch. With one last look over his shoulder, he pushed the bike into the hold and set the door to lock.

Before making his way back to the bunks, he shimmied into the pilot’s seat and activated the life support systems. Who knew how much of Anoat’s atmosphere would be filtered out without it? As it was, he didn’t want to risk being incapacitated himself, much less allow Poe to hurt any more.

Tabling the breather mask and rifle in the main hold, Finn picked his way back to the bunks. He couldn’t have been gone more than half an hour but when he slipped inside, Poe was asleep in the nest Finn had made for him.

Finn’s breath caught, his gaze traced Poe’s body. He seemed to be breathing easy, the dark circles under his eyes still present but the shivers and sweat long gone. Finn let the breath out easy at that and climbed into the bare cot closest to Poe. With the life support system on, it would be warm enough to sleep in just his jacket. With tentative fingers, he bridged the gap between them and laid his hand over Poe’s.

Who knew how long Poe would need to recover? They had rations enough for a few more days, surely he could afford to let his co-general rest until then if he wanted. He didn’t say good night or any of the number of things weighing on his heart that would be safe to say into the silence between them. He only squeezed Poe’s hand and shut his eyes to sleep.

—

Sometime in the morning, he jolted awake. At first, he wasn’t sure what woke him then he heard it again. In the cot next to him, lit in the soft morning light, Poe was tossing and groaning. Finn sat up and moved closer, kneeling on the floor in front of Poe’s cot. Poe’s words were unintelligible but he was gasping and flailing. Finn ached. He laid a gentle hand on Poe’s shoulder and shook him.

“Poe?” His voice was low, scratchy. “Hey, wake up.”

He shook a little harder and finally the pilot’s eyes flew open. “Finn?” Poe gasped, clutching at his biceps. “Finn, where are we? Where—”

“Shhh,” he soothed as he shifted to sit on the cot, leaning against Poe to run a hand through his curls, “you’re safe, you’re with me. We’re on the ship. It’s morning.”

Poe relaxed and gulped air, looking at him uncertainly. “I—I was dreaming?” he asked tentatively.

Finn worried the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know how much you were dreaming, buddy. Some of it happened.” When Poe’s eyes turned downcast, he said, “We found the beacon but old First Order had it. Or maybe they just had First Order uniforms, I don’t know. The last one, the human, said they’d found the beacon. I don’t know if that’s true but I don’t think Kazuda has been here in a long time…”

At that, Poe nodded and finally settled back against the blankets.

“You uh, you got sick from the atmo, so I brought you back here. You had a fever…then you slept.”

The quiet stretched between them for a long moment, taut and tight and intimate. Poe’s shirt was mostly unbuttoned, the skin of his chest warm and inviting. His hand was still tangled in Poe’s hair and Poe’s fingers still gripped his arms. Finn breathed in the tingling air between them, letting himself sink into it.

“Finn—” Poe stuttered, breath caught thick in his throat.

Finn could feel something pressing at him. It ached and tenderly flayed him from head to toe. Poe bit his lip. He searched Poe’s eyes in the velvet light. The _something_ was there, hiding underneath Poe’s incandescent stare. It shifted, dark and esoteric, threatening to overwhelm the softness in his eyes. It took him a few seconds to work out what it was.

Poe was scared. Poe Dameron, general of the Resistance, I-can-fly-anything hotshot pilot, was scared. Stars, he was even shaking the tiniest bit.

Maybe Finn was scared, too.

“What are you afraid of?” Everything he needed was there, but he had to ask. His voice sounded dark, rough to his own ears. “You’re trembling.”

Poe swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

Finn sighed and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on Poe’s chest. He had to be sure.

“You know, I can feel you. Right here,” he admitted. He bumped his head against Poe’s chest. He didn’t open his eyes but could imagine the look on his face. “You’re so _warm_. You’re a kriffing inferno in there, eating me up with feeling. I can feel bad things, too. Things that wanna hurt me feel cold. I don’t feel anything like that around here.”

They had been through so much, Finn thought for sure they trusted each other. Through all their time together, Poe was the only one to never hold his past against him. He paused, hoping Poe would catch the drift and save him from answering. He didn’t.

Finn looked up, anxiety ratcheting tight in his throat. 

“Are you scared of me?”

How could something as insubstantial as a question be so heavy?

Poe’s breath left him all in a rush, like it had been punched out of him. “Kriff, _no, Finn_. I’m— I— I’m not afraid of you! I just…I love you.”

He froze.

_Oh thank the stars._

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed.

Poe didn’t even answer. He leapt forward, pushing into Finn’s space and crashing their mouths together. Finn _melted_. Tension he didn’t know he’d been holding finally snapped at the touch of Poe’s hands surging over his back, crashing into his hair. The noise Poe made shattered him, the touch of his body remade him. Poe sat forward just far enough for Finn to push the shirt off his shoulders. He trailed his hand from Poe’s hair down his side, reverent and slow, bracing a thigh between his knees. He sighed against Poe’s mouth when Poe’s fingers pulled apart the buttons of his shirt.

“Finn—” Poe sounded wrecked.

Now that his hands were moving, Finn couldn’t seem to stop. Oh _kriff,_ he was done for. Poe’s skin was intoxicating after so long without it. Poe’s fingers finding their way to rest on his belt loops set his blood on fire, wound him tight. The heat was _everywhere_ , saturating the air, his skin, his insides. His touch dipped dangerously low and Poe strained against the sleeves still trapping him. He worked a digit into the waist of Poe’s trousers. Stars, he felt Poe’s length against in a hot, solid line, barely managed to gasp out “Can I—” before Poe groaned and ground into him.

“ _Please_ ,” Poe gasped, “ _please_ do that—”

Finn flexed unconsciously, wound tighter still, eyes half-lidded. He dragged a hand over Poe’s clothed cock, rewarded with a low, breathy moan and,

“Kriff, _ah_ c’mon Finn, get your hands—” Finn smiled against Poe’s mouth, curving his hand under the band of Poe’s underwear and pushing it down. “ _Oh,_ right there…”

Poe pulled his shirt off, tossed it aside. The fly of his own trousers popped open, Poe pushed his pants over his hips to fit two hands over his ass. Cool air, then electricity arced in front of his eyes as his cock touched Poe’s. Finn groaned deep in his chest, kissed from Poe’s mouth to his neck, sucking a dark mark into the pulse there as he fit his hand around them.

“Shit, Finn _please,_ move,” Poe’s hand wrapped around his, pulling their fingers together, “oh gods please that…”

Finn sucked in a sharp breath, he would’t admit he whined. Shit, he was coming apart at the seams already. He looked between them; swiped his thumb over the head of Poe’s cock, pulled their fingers like Poe did. His hips moved in stuttering little motions; trying, desperately failing not to thrust against Poe’s hips. A few pulls and there was less friction, more slick. He loosened his grip, thrust a little harder.

“Yeah,” Poe breathed, “stars—Finn just like that, sweetheart _please_!”

“Yeah?” Finn gasped, thrusting harder. The friction was almost too much. He wet his palm, tried again. “Ah—that?”

Poe let out a strangled noise, somewhere between words and nonsense. His breath shortened, shallowed to a pant. Finn bit into Poe’s shoulder, drowning in the heat, setting a lazy pace between them.

“Finn!” Poe threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, trembling.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“Ssay what?” Poe’s eyes fluttered as he focused on him but Finn didn’t falter in his rhythm.

“Sweetheart.” Finn parroted. “Or I love you.” He fit his mouth to Poe’s, dipped his tongue into the liquid heat of his mouth. “Just say it again, don’t you ever stop.”

Poe’s groaned shot right to his cock and something in the pilot seemed to break.

“Oh _stars_ , I thought it was all a dream,” he babbled. “The fever, the shower, I didn’t think I kissed you for real.”

Poe’s solid body twisted against him; Finn gasped, thrust faster.

“I love you, _I love you I love you_ ah, _Finn_ ,” Poe chanted. Finn teetered on the edge, Poe’s voice and hands and _everything_ driving himself absolutely to the brink. Poe’s blunt nails dug into the skin of his back. He pressed his lips to the dark mark in Poe’s throat just to hear him gasp again. The sound burrowed into his flesh, tingling through his core. Every fiber of his being twisted tighter then—

“Poe—” It was the only warning he could get out then he was tumbling over the edge. The heat swept him into a vortex, spiraling up into oblivion. All the muscles in his body clenched, heat and electricity ripped through him, his eyes squeezed shut. Poe shuddered beneath him, forcing his eyes back open so he could see Poe fall apart. For all the galaxy, he couldn’t think of anything—gorgeous.

Finally, he slumped into Poe, only partially smashing him. He panted, pressed light little kisses against Poe’s skin, slowly floating back planetside. A little smile curved against his hair. Poe pressed a kiss to the top of his head and Finn sighed deeply. Content.

“Happy?” he asked. He meant to ask more but he was just too liquid at the moment to get his mouth to work right.

“More than you know,” Poe replied. His tone was surprisingly soft. Vulnerable.

With some effort, Finn tilted his head back and looked at Poe. A light flush still sat in his cheeks, his lips kiss-swollen and shiny. _He did that_. Stars, he’d never seen anything look more beautiful. He smirked.

“We on the same page?” Again, a note of uncertainty.

Finn’s smiled widened. “I love you, too,” he murmured.

Poe’s face could’ve lit up the entire sky. Finn crawled up Poe’s body to kiss him again, this time lazy, happy to give and give and give. 

Poe smiled down at him. “Shower?”

“Definitely.”

The mission would continue; it was far from over. Things to do, time never on their side. There were still battles to fight and freedom to win, but just for now, Finn was glad at least one problem had been solved. He was happy there was time for this.


End file.
